


The Little Things

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, F/M, Lost Love, M/M, Memories, Nygmobblepositivity, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, Regret, not freezewald, nygmobblepot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Fourth fic for Nygmobblepot Week. Prompt: 'Regret'.Oswald and Fries reflect on what they have lost and what might have been.(Disclaimer: Not a Freezewald fic)





	The Little Things

'Ivy said you would be here'.

Oswald took another sip of his cocktail as he registered Victor Fries’ heavy, metallic tread entering the empty Lounge.  
Oswald didn’t turn his barstool, choosing instead to stare into his glass.  
Above him, Ed’s prison was illuminated by small lamps arranged at its base making the surface of the ice twinkle with rainbow coloured facets. Even from a distance, Oswald could feel the cool air from the cryogenic unit built into the bar beneath the block’s base.

'What is it?' he asked, idly running a finger around the rim of the martini glass, ice collecting beneath his nail.

'She seems concerned about you', Victor said, coming to a halt a respectful distance from Oswald.

Oswald was tempted for politeness sake to indicate the stool beside him but decided against it. It was unlikely the stool would stand up to the weight of Victor’s so-called ‘freeze suit’.  
Besides he hoped this was to be a quick visit.  
He wasn’t in the mood for company.

'She's sent you to check up on me'.

Victor nodded, sensing Oswald was making a statement rather than asking a question.

'Why are you here?' Victor asked.

'Why shouldn't I be here?’ Oswald shrugged, ‘It's my club'.

'You're sitting alone in the dark'.

'Have I ever mentioned how illuminating I find your insightful comments Victor?'

'No’.

'There's a reason for that'.

Victor didn’t react to the jab which ironically only served to irritate Oswald more than if he had. He had the distinct feeling Victor chose to be deliberately monosyllabic and blunt on purpose just to rile people up.

'You miss him', Victor observed, looking up at the block.

'Hard to miss him’, Oswald replied, fingers tightening on his glass, ’He's a permanent installation'.

'Deflection. A standard tactic of the grief stricken'.

'What grief?!’ Oswald snapped, realising Victor was not going to let the matter drop, ‘It’s not as if he’s dead!’

Oswald caught himself before he could launch into a tirade and inhaled slowly through his nose.

‘If anything’, Oswald continued after a moment, ‘Being put on ice is too good for him’.

'Then why freeze him at all? More poetic to shoot him and throw him in the river'.

'I am literal living proof that’s not a reliable way to dispatch someone’, Oswald said rolling his eyes, ‘Is there anything else or can I enjoy my drink in peace?’

‘Why do you torture yourself like this?’

‘I’m torturing _him’._

‘A pointless effort’, Victor deadpanned, ‘He can’t feel it. You can’.

Oswald didn't reply.  
He could sense Victor’s anticipation.  
It was only when the scientist spoke that Oswald realised Victor had been waiting for permission to continue speaking, not a response from him.

'Nora's _illness_ made me feel weak’, Victor said, the faintest current of emotion beneath the surface of his almost monotone voice, ‘Not my love for her'.

Oswald was intrigued to detect the edge of accusation or affront to Victor’s words as if Oswald’s declaration of love as a weakness had secretly offended him.

'That's very touching but we're not talking about your wife', Oswald said, trying to muster an apologetic tone.  
Despite Victor’s difficult temperament, Oswald knew the pain of losing someone. Watching them die right in front of you and being powerless to stop it.

'She was always stronger than I was because she knew when to let go’, Victor said, ghostly eyes distant as he reminisced, ‘You miss the little things most. Their laugh, their smile, their warmth-'

Oswald tensed as Victor’s reminiscing threw some of his own memories into sudden stark relief.

_‘That’s all I have now, memories and they’re like daggers in my heart!’_

_‘A man with nothing that he loves is a man cannot be bargained with. A man that cannot be betrayed. A man who answers to no one…but himself. And that is the man I see before me, a free man’._

Oswald slammed his half empty glass down on the bar.  
Victor stopped talking.  
Oswald scrunched his eyes closed but couldn’t prevent the memories of past conversations still echoing in his mind.

 _'If I didn’t know better I’d accuse you of being a sentimentalist’._

Oswald opened his eyes, feeling moisture on his lashes.  
Yes, he had been guilty of that.  
Was keeping Ed here proof that he was still guilty of it?  
He thinks of the lever in the basement. One pull and Ed would be set free.  
No.  
The Riddler, his hated enemy, would be free.  
The Ed he knew, the Ed he had loved, was long gone.

'I would like you to leave now Victor’, Oswald said quietly, ‘Please. Tell Ivy I'm fine and I'll be home soon'.

Victor gave a curt nod.

‘Thank you Penguin’, he said.

'For what?' Oswald asked, confused.

‘Seeing this, a weight has been lifted from my shoulders’, Victor said, glancing up at Ed’s frozen form, ‘I'm now glad I didn't succeed in freezing Nora'.

'Why?'

'Because seeing her like that day after day would have killed me. So close but far beyond my reach'.

Oswald was no stranger to that either.  
There had been a barrier between he and Ed ever since Isabella had swept aside their domestic bliss. Even when she had been ‘dispatched’, the barrier had remained, Oswald kept at bay by Ed’s grief.  
And the divide had only gotten greater and greater until Oswald’s peace had shattered into pieces.

_‘When you know what a man loves, you know what can kill him’._

‘I assure you’, Oswald said coldly, ‘Despite what you think, it is not the same. If I ever get bored with this trophy, I will simply pull a lever, then a trigger and not bat an eye'.

 _''If'_ is a very telling word to use'.

'Careful Victor’, Oswald warned, ‘You’ve seen what I do to would-be psychiatrists who cross me’.

Victor regarded him, his expression blank as he blinked slowly. Oswald returned Victor’s impassive gaze with a heated glare.  
Oswald knew Victor was armed (he always carried his freeze gun) but in that moment, he just didn’t care.  
He wanted Victor to leave.  
He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, miserable with _his_ drink in _his_ Lounge in peace!

_‘What more could someone ask for?’_  
_‘Someone to share it with’._

'I don't know which of you I feel more pity for', Victor declared as he finally began to walk away.

'I thought you were above pity', Oswald called after him, refusing to watch him go.

He smirked triumphantly as he heard Victor’s heavy footsteps stop and the tight sound of leather scrunching. Victor’s fist curling no doubt.  
Perhaps he had gotten a rise out of the ‘iceman’ after all.  
What Victor said next wiped the smirk from Oswald’s face.

'And you think you are above love. Perhaps we don't know ourselves as well as we think. After all, Edward Nygma saw the best in you once even when nobody else did'.

_‘I believe in you Oswald, even when you don’t believe in yourself’._

Oswald spun around to deliver an angry retort but Victor was already gone, the Lounge door closing with a sound akin to a coffin lid slamming.

Oswald gave a wordless growl and turned back around.  
As his eyes landed on the ice block, he suddenly threw the glass at the ice in a fit of spiteful, helpless anger.  
It shattered and the few remaining liquid stained the smooth, polished surface as they trickled down.  
Oswald cursed as he saw he had gotten some of the cocktail on his jacket.  
Ed would have known what to do to get rid of the spreading stain. 

'If you saw the best in me, how did you bring out the worst?’ Oswald mumbled, sniffing hard and swallowing down the treacherous lump in his throat as he reached for another drink.


End file.
